


Race

by wrabbit



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comment Fic, Community: fic_promptly, Gen, Hiatus, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 05:31:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrabbit/pseuds/wrabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Run, run as fast as you can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Race

Mycroft watched the grey-scale figure dodging traffic and pedestrians in Marylebone in crackly, dark simulacrum. It travelled inch by deceptive inch, sprinting past strollers through the slush and in front of affronted taxis until it made its way out of the boundaries of the monitor. Mycroft changed camera feeds with the touch of a key, again to an angle where he could see the man bounce on his heels waiting for a light to change.

Two cameras later, Mycroft saw him look to the windows of 221B Baker Street before running in and up, leaving the door swinging behind him to let the cold air race in after him. On his desk, Mycroft's phone lit up, alone on his desk and silent in the dark, still room. He stared at it for a long time, reaching to answer only when a hand parted the curtains in the camera feed on the laptop, the sign of someone staring impatiently out.

"Dr. Watson.

"Mycroft. Thank god."

"Yes? I'm afraid I'm quite occupied at the moment."

"You know, don't you? Where he's gone?"

"If you are speaking of Mr. Moriarty - "

A breath and the curtains fell closed in the window. "If you have him... He was here. He promised he would stay. Here."

The sounds rummaging abruptly filled the line.

"John."

"What?"

"It would be best if you were to leave Baker Street for the moment. I believe you will find yourself already accomodated for the inconvenience. I'll be in touch."

"Where is he? Where's Sherlock? You can't just - "

"Goodbye, Dr Watson."

Mycroft ended the call when he was met with silence. He powered down the laptop, placing both in an envelope for incineration. "Anthea?"

"Ready, sir?"

"Thank you. Yes."


End file.
